


Colchicum

by habenaria_radiata



Series: Dream Eater [2]
Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor, Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Incubus, Dream Sex, Hotsuweek 2018, M/M, Our Incubi Are Different, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 22:01:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14902856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/habenaria_radiata/pseuds/habenaria_radiata
Summary: After his fortuitous intrusion on Hibiki's sexy dreams about his sexy boss, Abel decides to pay said boss a visit of his own.He gets rather more than he'd bargained for.





	Colchicum

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Yamato! You get dream sex for your birthday, and a night filled with emotional torment.
> 
> Hotsuweek 2018 is technically over tonight, but I do intend to post another one-shot tomorrow to make up for the day I missed. I sincerely apologize, subscribers. My regular schedule of not posting anything for month long stretches is sure to resume shortly. Thank you for sticking with me! ♥

* * *

 

 

    Had Abel known just how much effort the infiltration of a secret government organization would demand of him, he may have just said 'screw it' and changed his mind. Yamato was hot as sin, certainly. He had a voice that could inspire boners, his manner of dress was impeccable, and he wore a BDSM tie to work. There was a lot to like there. But no dick on the surface of the earth was worth this much goddamned trouble, not even if it spurted melted gold and granted wishes.  
  
    Abel had never heard of JP's before his ill-advised decision to break into it, but that in itself didn't merit much thought. He didn't pay attention to the human notion of 'governing'. There were a lot of people things he hadn't heard of. Frankly, he had better things to concern himself with than all the bullshit minutia of Japanese bureaucracy. Though that might not be entirely true, now, since the first time he'd slipped inside of JP's' hidden headquarters, alarms had blared so loudly they'd shattered his eardrums and also every nerve in his body.  
  
    JP's, it would seem, was not as innocuous as its long, incredibly stupid and un-catchy name would imply. They were not merely meteorological enthusiasts. They were in the business of demons and other supernatural creatures like him.  
  
    At first, Abel had been _monstrously_ insulted. His initial assumption was that they strictly studied incubi and succubi, given their sensors had immediately detected his entry, and that smarted. He and his fellow dream eaters were harmless! People only thought they were rapey because they made for a convenient scapegoat whenever some ancient human fuck wanted to get his sexual assault on, and that was hardly fair to them. They just wanted to nibble on some dreams and go about their merry way. It was certainly more sustainable than what humans ate. Those fucks needed so many cows to stay alive that their stupid burger fodder was literally farting a hole in the atmosphere, but they were gonna get their panties in a knot because sometimes they woke up with cum in their pants? Cry him a fucking river.  
  
    But then it occurred to him that incubi, as cool, smart, and handsome as they so clearly were, weren't really enough of a menace to warrant an entire government branch devoted to their study. Even Abel couldn't claim they were that interesting, and JP's was so enormous as to be dizzying. The likelier scenario was that JP's had a supernatural bend in general, and the sensors had caught his magic rather than whatever unique essence made him an incubus. A sexy, sexy incubus with great hair and an even greater ass.  
  
    The explanation did soothe his bruised ego, but it didn't annoy him any less, because it meant that getting in and out would be difficult. And this was a problem for him, because Yamato appeared to live exclusively inside his office. Abel had spent a few nights hanging around the Diet Building to see if he would leave, but Yamato never did. Not for breaks or just to stretch his legs or to get food or to sleep somewhere other than beneath his desk like a normal human being.  
  
    At least Hibiki came in clutch for him. He'd come to the Diet Branch early one morning, one hand clenched around a paper cup of coffee and the other opened up around his mouth to catch a yawn. He was oblivious as Abel hitched a ride, slithering up his back and anchoring his curly black head between his thighs. Whatever kind of magic Hibiki had command of was wholly different from Abel's, but it fooled the JP's sensors nevertheless. He hadn't expected that to actually work, but he was delighted that it did. Abel wasn't sure if Hibiki's camouflaged his signature, or if there was a specific threshold to avoid, and he couldn't even begin to guess. But it didn't matter. He was in, and Yamato better have the most delicious fucking dream in the universe to make up for the bullshit he was going through to eat it.  
  
    To Abel's enormous satisfaction, he didn't even have to wander around JP's like some sort of neo-steampunk zoo to find him. Hibiki headed straight for Yamato's office. No wonder his coat was nicer than everyone else's. It wasn't quite as I-am-important as Yamato's, but it was definitely important-er than the rest of the agents. Only that blue haired woman from Hibiki's dream (whom he'd addressed as Makoto when he said good morning to her) had one that was comparable.  
  
    So Hibiki reported directly to Yamato. Interesting. Or it was to begin with. Abel tried to entertain himself by spying on their conversation, but it was a lot less interesting than he'd allowed himself to believe it would be. Yamato gave Hibiki a list of tasks he wanted done that day, Hibiki made exactly zero (0) sexual advances, and then Hibiki got up to go do whatever it was JP's agents did with their time. Probably not have sex and then take lunch money from some Poltergeists or something.  
  
    As thrilling as that sounded, Abel's target was right there, and Hibiki was already moving away from it. With a great deal of reluctance, Abel unwound himself from Hibiki's torso and watched him disappear out the door.  
  
    And then he tensed, waiting for the screaming of bells.  
  
    And he waited. And waited. After several seconds, Abel cracked open one eye to see that Yamato was not looking at him at all. His pale head was bent over the desk, and he was scrawling something he couldn't make out. Huh. Perhaps his camouflage theory was correct. If Hibiki had a boatload of magic to himself, it stood to reason that his boss would command even more. Then again, it did puzzle him that they even had sensors if they could be thwarted by their own agents. Was it something else?  
  
    Abel obviously wasn't going to piece that together without looking more in depth, but he did not currently have time to do that, or to look a gift horse in the mouth. It was getting on in the day, and he was incredibly tired. While Yamato wiled away his work day, Abel decided to roll the dice and poke around his office.  
  
    It was surprisingly...bleak. The walls were blank and windowless which, while understandable, given that they were underground, made for a depressing venue. There were shelves crammed with as many programming books as they were demonic tomes. Yamato's desk was the biggest thing taking up space, a dark, imposing mahogany thing made up of sharp lines that were as no-nonsense as the person sitting behind it. Abel wasn't sure why he even bothered with it; the rich, beautiful wood was covered entirely with electronics and paperwork. He had a desktop and a fancy monitor only marginally thicker than the paper he was writing on, and a heavy cell phone was perched near his hand. The only seating besides Yamato's were two tall, straight-backed chairs that looked like they'd been designed by the dude in shop class who spent his time outside school drafting manifestos about how comfort made everyone into pussies. Abel suspected that was the intent, too. Yamato didn't strike him as the sort of fellow who was too keen on the idea of anyone feeling like they were actually welcome inside his domain.  
  
    Slowly, Abel completed his circuit around the office and frowned. And he'd thought Hibiki's apartment was sad. Then again -- there seemed to be yet more to explore. Hibiki had gone outside the door directly behind him, but there was another one to Yamato's right that Abel was curious about. He slid directly through the wood to see a pretty decent sized room. Aha! No wonder Yamato never ventured outside. Apparently he maintained that vampiric complexion by sleeping in his office for real. And to think, Abel had just thought he was being an asshole.  
  
    This room wasn't much better off than the office, but it did have a bed that was covered in a thick black comforter and flanked by two simple night stands. One of them had a heavy black laptop sitting perched on it. For fuck's sake, did this guy ever actually sleep?  
  
    The answer appeared to be no. Abel curled up at the foot of Yamato's bed to sleep his own day away, and every time he jerked awake to check the time, that workaholic fuck was still awake, still in his office, still working himself to death. God, Yamato and Hibiki were going to fucking kill him. No wonder they couldn't muster up even a drop of game between them.  
  
    Staying invisible was starting to drain his magic too much, and Yamato still hadn't gone to bed. Come nightfall, Abel had to slink out of his room to feed on the dreams of some of the recruits snoring away in the dorms just to keep it up lest he get caught.  
  
    It was close to midnight before the Chief finally deigned to stop working and step into his sleeping quarters. Impatience gnawed at Abel's insides as Yamato unlaced his ridiculous boots, meticulously stripped off his gloves and laid them near his bedside, hung up his coat and his tie, and stripped away the rest of his clothes to put into a hamper. Then he wandered into the washroom to shower while Abel screamed internally. He wanted to summon a copy of Go the Fuck to Sleep and hit him in the face with it.  
  
    By 12:15AM, the nicest thing Abel could think to say about him was that at least Yamato fell asleep quickly. He could hear his breathing even out, and the silence bathing the room was unbroken even by the shift of bedding.  
  
    With a groan, Abel rolled out from beneath the bed and climbed on top of it to glare down at Yamato in the dark. Then he reared back and sputtered. He was on his stomach? Yamato was a stomach sleeper?! Of course he was a stomach sleeper.  
  
    This absolute jackwagon. Abel allowed himself his little snit as he pulled the blankets off Yamato and debated whether or not to use magic to make the rollover easier. Fucking stomach sleepers. The _worst_. Eventually, the cost-benefit analysis that ran through his head reminded him that he'd spent a galling amount of effort to even get here. It would be a complete waste if he woke Yamato up and ruined it for himself.  
  
    Grumpy, Abel let a few warm tendrils of magic seep down his fingers, and he curled them around Yamato's bicep and flipped him onto his back. He probably could have been a little more gentle, but he wasn't in the mood to be generous. He was beginning to get a little hangry.  
  
    At least Yamato was definitely asleep. He also wasn't even fucking dreaming yet. There was no flower at all, and Abel pitched his head back as a noise of deep frustration bubbled up from his throat. Oh well. It'd come in due time. He'd just have to chill a little bit and let him hit his REM cycle. It probably wouldn't take that long. Hopefully.  
  
    Abel took a deep breath and shuffled forward on his knees to bend over Yamato, planting his hands on the bed and squinting down at him. He looked...younger this way. His face was slack in sleep, and his hair tumbled over his eye and against his cheek. It was still damp from the shower, too. No wonder it looked so wavy all the time if he just went to sleep with it wet like that. Honestly.  
  
    Appraising Yamato turned out to be more effectively distracting than he'd thought. Abel prodded at his biceps and was delighted to feel that he was surprisingly muscular. Just to verify his suspicions, he poked at his abs too. He'd totally expected him to be some scrawny, pencil-necked matchstick, but damn! Hotsuin was built! Curious and eager to continue his exploration, Abel scooted backwards along Yamato's bare thighs and glanced down to see that he was wearing boxer briefs.  
  
    He almost snorted. Boxer briefs? Really? Still, Abel did have to give him some credit. At least they weren't just straight up Y-front briefs. Briefs were the most unsexy piece of clothing he could even fathom. Yamato was gorgeous, but a pair of tighty whiteys like that would leech even his sex appeal dryer than Coober Pedy. Abel would take the boxer briefs. Even if they were black and yellow like some kind of standard issue JP's underwear, which made him snicker so hard he couldn't mask the sound.  
  
    He slapped a hand to his mouth and hunkered down, his legs curling around Yamato's own. He shouldn't look. But Abel was absolutely gonna. His own curiosity was insatiable, and maybe this way, he could give Hibiki more true-to-life sexy dreams about his boss.  
  
    Abel threw caution to the wind. He slid two of his fingers beneath the elastic waistband and peeled it up from Yamato's pale skin. He bent further over his sleeping body, the top of his head flat against Yamato's abs, and he stole a peek beneath them.  
  
    A strangled noise burst from him.  
  
     _Dayum_.  
  
    Chief Hotsuin was packing _heat_. Hibiki's unquenchable thirst for him became entirely justified in Abel's mind. Damn, that shit looked like he could bludgeon a man to death with it from a two second glance at a titty mag. Not that Yamato seemed like the sort who was interested in titty mags. He seemed more like he'd never been interested in fucking anything but his own throbbing intellect.  
  
    Also the carpets matched the drapes, and that was super cute, considering Yamato's hair color. He was charmed by it. Abel let go of the band as gently as he could. No doubt Yamato wouldn't appreciate having it snapped against him, and he wouldn't appreciate it rousing the man when Abel was still waiting for his damn flower to bloom.  
  
    Eventually, his patience was rewarded. The fringe of Yamato's bangs shifted slightly. Abel brushed them aside and watched a pale bulb spring up from his forehead. His stomach tightened. Intrigue and curiosity surged through him, and he raised himself higher onto his knees as his eyes followed every twitch and shift of the bulb splitting into faint seams.  
  
    A long, sharp petal fell away from the bulb and unfurled. It was bright, vivid yellow.  
  
    Fuck.  
  
    The rest followed short quickly after. One by one, the petals fell down in a halo over Yamato's forehead, casting the room in a golden glow. Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck.  
  
    Yellow. Yellow flowers were dangerous. They weren't _bad_ , per se; with a yellow sinflower, you had a fifty-fifty shot of it being the best thing you ever put in your mouth, or experiencing for yourself what would happen if you tried to eat a jelly bean flavored with arsenic.  
  
    Great. Abel grit his teeth and stared down at it with betrayal burning in his gut. God damn it. It figured he would go through all this heartache just to be presented with a fucking yellow one. He tried to calm himself with a little bit of optimism. It wasn't the end of the world. It might be delicious. Lemonade was yellow.  
  
    But so were forest cobras.  
  
    Abel chewed at his bottom lip and weighed his options. He could at least taste it. Like hell he was going to just fuck off after he'd gone through so much hell specifically for this man. He'd eat that fucking flower even if it tasted like a wet floor sign.  
  
    That decided, Abel took another deep breath and darted forward, letting his nose brush the center of the flower. Licking the nectar directly was always worse than the slightly more diluted taste of whatever was in the petals. At the very least, he could minimize the damage. Carefully, Abel took a long petal between his teeth and broke it off, sucking it into his mouth and biting down.  
  
    The acrid taste of battery acid seared the inside of his mouth. Abel's throat clamped shut. Water pierced the backs of his eyes and sluiced down his lashes. It was the most overwhelmingly bitter thing he'd ever had in his mouth. Completely inedible. He'd get more nutrients trying to eat one of Yamato's gloves.  
  
    He spat the chewed petal out onto Yamato's cheek and gasped for air. Jesus damn. What the hell was he dreaming about? Having his fingernails ripped off? Trying to give a UN speech naked? Reliving being the only kid in his whole class who wasn't invited to a birthday party?  
  
    Abel dragged his forearm over his leaking eyes and spat more of the taste out of his mouth. Eugh, he felt like he was never going to experience happiness ever again. He felt like he'd just French kissed a Dementor. Okay, he took it back. He lied. He would not eat that flower no matter what. That shit was poison.  
  
    When his heart rate finally slowed to a more appropriate pace, Abel wiped at his wet cheeks again and grabbed Yamato's face. Maybe he could salvage this. Maybe he could fix the dream with minimal magic. He pushed his forehead down, flattening the flower between his skin and Yamato's, and he dove headfirst into the nightmare.  
  
    Everything was black. A split second of panic lanced through him before he realized that his eyes were shut. Cautiously, Abel opened one, then the other. The floor beneath him was so dark it looked coated in pitch. But there was no pitch, only extremely dark wood with something yet darker splashed across it that he couldn't have identified if it weren't for the smell.  
  
    Copper. Thick. Heavy. The tang of blood. Abel realized with a start that his body felt crushed into a tiny, unforgiving space, and he could not breathe. He was afraid to move lest his limbs shatter. It took someone else to lift his head, Pale hair obscured his vision, but his arm was frozen into place. He left it there and took another ragged breath.  
  
    "Hello?"  
  
    There was chalk on the floor, a broken circle and a thicker puddle of fetid rot spreading across it. "Someone?" he called again, his voice breaking. Something rose up from the center of the circle. It unfolded itself, a squelch of flesh as it dragged itself towards him, its misshapen body blotting out the flickering lights of the candles by the walls. It wanted to eat him. It was going to-  
  
    Abel tore himself free of the dream and shook his head violently. There was no salvaging that. For ages he sat on Yamato's stomach, trying to reorient himself to his own body. Yamato's face was still perfectly blank in sleep, but his sinflower burned in the dark.  
  
    He swallowed and dragged a hand across his mouth. Nothing for it. It would be worth it, in this instance. Again, Abel slid back into his dreams, and his magic locked itself with Yamato, dissolving the dark wood walls and the lumbering beast inching towards him.  
  
    Yamato jerked awake at his desk, his eyes snapping open and his gloves sliding across the surface. What. He did not nap. A haze of disorientation buzzed at the edges of his vision. He sat back in his seat with a faint squeak of leather, and he brought his fingertips up to his temples and pressed down.  
  
    The last thing Abel was going to do was interrupt. He stayed unobtrusive, allowing Yamato to recover from his nightmare while he familiarized himself with his new limbs. Yamato's body was much roomier than Hibiki's. It was pretty comfortable, all things considered. Hibiki was a slightly tight fit, but Yamato was kind of perfect. Just enough space to breathe without being an actual giant. Trying to dwell in someone too much bigger than you tended to make you feel like you were trying to pilot a fucking mecha.  
  
    As Hibiki had been, Yamato was ignorant of Abel's presence. He slowly leaned back into his chair and allowed himself a thin sigh. Having him nap in his office was obviously wildly out of character, but Yamato still had no idea he was in a dream, so it was less jarring than it would have been otherwise.  
  
    A pair of small white hands slid up his knees, and Yamato jumped so hard he nearly hit the ceiling. Abel snorted loudly and watched as he shoved himself backwards just in time to see Hibiki emerge out from beneath his desk, his pale hands following the length of Yamato's thighs. "Hi," he said.  
  
    Yamato made the most scandalized noise he'd ever heard outside a group of gossiping grandmas. "H- Hibiki," he sputtered. Abel imagined it was the most ineloquent Yamato had ever been since birth. "What are you doing?!"  
  
    Hibiki ignored his question and let his fingertips flutter against Yamato's pressed slacks. "Did you have a bad dream?" he asked, tilting his head and pressing his cheek to one of Yamato's knees. Abel had to resist the urge to run his fingers through his silky curls.  
  
    Hibiki was such a beautiful boy. He wasn't usually Abel's type, truth be told. He was a bit...twinky for his tastes, but those eyes were otherworldly. So ethereally blue and striking. He'd always found the phrase 'butterfly' lashes to be unforgivably corny until he met Hibiki.  
  
    "Yamato?"  
  
    Abel felt his throat bob with a nervous swallow. It was nice to have confirmation that Yamato was exactly as unsmooth as he'd assumed. "I- I am fine, Hibiki. What are you doing?"  
  
    As Yamato repeated himself, Hibiki responded in kind, ignoring him a second time and raking his fingernails down his thighs. "Do you want me to make you feel better?"  
  
    To Abel's neverending amusement, Yamato actually pushed his boots down into the carpet and began to roll backwards in his chair, inching away from Hibiki like a terrified turtle. It was the funniest fucking thing he'd ever seen in his life. "Th- that won't be necessary," Yamato managed, with a great deal of struggle. He could feel their faces grow so hot their skin was threatening to peel off.  
  
    A cute pout seized Hibiki's face. He was not deterred by Yamato's ineffectual scuttling, however. He simply followed after him on his knees, still playing with the legs of Yamato's pants and petting him sweetly. "Are you sure? You seem like you're unhappy."  
  
    Evidently, he decided Yamato's pace was unsatisfactory. Without even asking, Hibiki thrust his hands forward, prying Yamato's fly open and tugging at the hem.  
  
    "Hi _biki_!" Yamato sounded as if he were two seconds away from collapsing of mortification distilled to its purest form, but Abel found it awfully telling that he wasn't yelling at him or trying to pull him off. This was Yamato's own dream designed specifically _not_ to be a nightmare, and now that Abel was sitting in this dickhead's body and could experience those thunder thighs for himself, he knew damn well that Yamato could probably punt Hibiki into the sun if he felt compelled to do so.  
  
    Well. Still. Perhaps Abel could test his theory. He popped out of his dream smoothly, and he curled the very tips of his fingers beneath the petals of his sinflower. It had changed. The yellow was deeper, and he could see that the thin veins beneath the flesh had turned a sultry orange.  
  
    It seemed like a good sign. Abel brushed his thumb over the top, admiring the waxy texture, and he submerged back into it to see that Hibiki's hand was splayed over Yamato's crotch, and Yamato's heart was dangerously close to giving out.  
  
    "Pleeease," Hibiki beseeched. Despite his request, he didn't actually wait for a proper acquiescence. He wriggled his fingers beneath the band and began to tug it down, already moving his face towards him.  
  
    He went barreling facefirst into Yamato's limits. The man tensed so hard Abel felt his own spine come close to breaking, and the breath wheezed out of him as he shoved Hibiki's head back from his lap. "Hibiki, I-"  
  
    The words dried up on Yamato's tongue. Hibiki was frowning against his palm, his eyebrows drawn tight and wibbling pitifully. Again, Yamato swallowed, and he let go of him and tugged at Hibiki's shoulders.  
  
    Abel's heart fluttered. Hibiki climbed up into Yamato's help with his assistance, and he leaned forward in his lap to kiss him softly. Well, well. The Chief was a romantic at heart. Adorable. That was the last thing he'd have expected.  
  
    He felt his arms snake around Hibiki's waist as Yamato pulled him close to them both. Like this, Hibiki was taller than them. His bony knees pushed between the chair and their thighs, and Hibiki held them tight as he lowered his head to kiss his beloved Chief.  
  
    He had to wonder if Yamato knew. If he was oblivious. They both must be, or why all this embarrassing pining when they could have been fucking like wild rabbits by now?  
  
    Or... Abel closed his eyes as Hibiki kissed him and noted the heavy tremors wracking both his forearms where they looped around Hibiki's waist.  
  
    Oh. Was Yamato afraid? He was. He was afraid of intimacy. He could feel it in the shake of his bones even when he tried to hold Hibiki like a lover would. He was scared to be vulnerable, even in his dreams.  
  
    Abel's heart felt lodged between two of his ribs, like it was trying to escape. He could feel the tension flooding through his veins and making his insides cold. But he still couldn't bear to let him go. Hibiki was so soft and warm and pliant against him, so yielding and trusting and sweet, and he tasted like it too.  
  
    He sighed between their mouths when they broke away, and Abel opened his eyes to stare down at Yamato and that gently pulsing flower. It was now or never. His heart was racing and his impulsiveness was raring for another taste. He parted his lips and curled his tongue inside the middle, and bubbles exploded across his tongue.  
  
    Holy shit. It was sour. Tart and a little bit sweet and so unbelievably _sour_ it made the whole inside of his mouth feel tight. It was the most delicious goddamned thing he'd ever had. Magic dropped into his stomach and spun through every limb. His toes curled and even his horns felt more twisted as his entire body was wracked by the aftertastes.  
  
    He wanted more. Abel thrust his tongue inside the blossom and sucked hard. This one had no stamen to contend with. The petals furled around an empty funnel that offered more nectar, that spilled into his mouth and burst across his taste buds like citrus champagne.  
  
    A hard shudder tore down his spine, and he forced himself away to check on Yamato. Apparently that kiss was all he'd needed to soothe his nerves. It was charming that he needed it to mean something.  
  
    Hibiki's fingers were tucked down between Yamato's slacks and his thighs, and he had his cock so deep down his throat his nose was buried in his abdomen. And of course Yamato was a fucking virgin and experienced the same vague 'I guess this feels good' pleasure that Hibiki got from what should have been a scorching hot dicking.  
  
    Oh well. At least Yamato was having a good time. Not like he knew any better. Every inch of his spine dug into the chair, and his thighs spread around Hibiki's shoulders. Abel was intrigued to note that the hand clenching at Hibiki's curly hair was bare. The other was not, and it was pressed tightly over Yamato's mouth in a way that suggested he would throw himself out the window if even one single soul on earth heard physical proof that he had ever experienced pleasure.  
  
    Abel left them to it. Yamato was welcome. He had something he wanted in his mouth himself, and he pulled two of the pretty petals into his mouth and crushed them between his teeth. More sharp nectar erupted from the broken skin and sent tingles flooding down his throat.  
  
    Fuck. He had believed with all his heart that Hibiki's sinflower was the best he'd ever tasted, but this one was out of this universe. He was helpless to stop. He tore into each and every petal, lapping up the excess nectar and shaking on top of Yamato's sleep-warm body.  
  
    He sat back with a desperate moan as the last one slid down his throat. He slipped two of his fingers between his lips just to taste the very last vestiges of that flower, sucking heavily and breathing through his nose.  
  
    When he opened his eyes and peered down, the whole flower was gone.  
  
    Yamato's eyes were open, and he lay staring up at him in a daze.  
  
    He had an enormous boner thrust right between Abel's thighs.  
  
    Yamato's hand slammed down over the phone on his nightstand, and Abel surged down to pin his wrist to the surface. His other hand snapped towards to Yamato's bare forehead, still slightly slick from Abel's tongue, and sent magic jolting into him.  
  
    His pale eyes rolled backwards as he collapsed beneath Abel and went slack again. In only a few seconds, his breathing returned to normal as sleep reclaimed him.  
  
    Holy shit.  
  
    Abel clambered off Yamato and hopped off his bed, leaving him at the mercy of his own boner. Holy shit that was dangerous. That was playing with fire. Yamato could have just wrecked his whole world.  
  
    He fled into the night like a bat out of hell, magic rolling from his skin like a fog and his stomach heavy with that deliciously bubbly nectar.  
  
    For all that was a good time, Abel really needed to rein it in after that. He was going to have to stay away from virgins for awhile.


End file.
